


Framework

by rosymamacita



Series: Drop Ship Camp [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Becoming Partners, Bellarke, Canon Compliant, Delinquents, Enemies to Friends, Gen, The Drop Ship, drawing portraits, getting a crush, leaders, together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in season 1, somewhere after they decided to make the rules together, but before their trip to the depot.</p><p> Bellamy knows that Clarke hates him, but he's finding his feelings for her changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Framework

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling season three is going off into wildly exciting new directions that will be difficult to predict (not that I'm not trying) so I thought I'd write a little something set in the simple nostalgia of season one, when they were just a bunch of kids roughing it in the dangerous woods.

Bellamy was working with a group of younger kids at the wall, building up their defenses. 

He felt Clarke glaring at him from across the camp. He didn’t even want to give her the satisfaction of glaring back. He made it a point to ignore her. 

All afternoon he ignored her. When he was directing Sterling and Monroe towards the new smokehouse with the rabbits they’d caught, he ignored her. When he talked to Miller about the new guard rotations and the watchtower they were building, he ignored her. When Roma came up to him as he was moving logs, shirtless, and offered him a drink from her canteen, he most definitely ignored Clarke. He was just stretching out his sore muscles, nothing to do with having an audience. Nothing to do with that blond hair that glinted in the sun, always there, in the corner of his eye. 

When she was gone, he noticed immediately. He couldn’t ignore the sinking in his gut when he saw that she was no longer outside the drop ship, wrapping bandages, mixing herbs and consulting with Monty and Octavia.

He looked around at the kids, industriously building and guarding and storing food. They were good. They’d done good. He had hope, for the first time that they might be able to survive on the ground, might be able to make it through the winter, because they could pull together and survive. Together.

His eyes went back to the empty benches outside the drop ship, and gritted his teeth. New problem.

He wanted to do it all with the princess, but the princess hated him. And he didn’t blame her. He kind of hated himself, too. That’s why he sighed and shook his head in disgust when he pulled his shirt back on and started walking towards Clarke’s tent.

“Hey, princess,” he called gruffly as he pulled aside the flap and walked into the cooler shade.

She was laying on her cot, her arm over her eyes wearing a drying blood stained shirt from this morning’s fiasco with a kid who hadn’t watched where his axe rebounded.

Bellamy froze where he was. He hadn’t thought this plan through. He could just stare at her, fighting the urge to join her on her cot, to pull her into his arms. Fuck. He should turn around right now and find Roma.

Clarke slowly lowered her arm from her eyes. She blinked at Bellamy. “Did you need something.”

He sighed. “Did you want to go collect that seaweed, now?” He was surprised at how annoyed his tone of voice sound. He hadn’t intended to be pissy. She probably thought he was pissed at her. He pressed his lips together and made a sour face. What a fucking idiot he was. 

Clarke sighed, too. Heavily. Long suffering. She rolled her eyes at him and sat up. Yup, she totally hated him. His gut twisted.

“Fine,” she said, just as pissy. “I just have to change this shirt. I can’t go out into the woods smelling like blood.”

“Good plan. I don’t feel like fighting off another panther, especially since I’m out of bullets.”

She stood and looked at him. He looked back. She raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you planning on watching me as I strip?” An image of Clarke stripping off her shirt for him flashed through his mind and he felt his temperature skyrocket. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, and turned his back, hiding his heated face. He could leave and let her change in peace but that’s not the way any of them were any more. Ever since the delinquents had gotten to Earth, the normal modesty of ship life had kind of disappeared. It was just them out here, against the world. No one ever wanted to be alone enough to prioritize privacy, even while they changed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced a flash of her pale, bare arm. He gritted his teeth and focused on the things on her makeshift table instead of trying to snatch a peek. It took a while for him to actually focus on the old scrap papers, bound together into a book. He took a step towards the desk, totally forgetting about the beautiful girl half naked behind him as he looked at what was on the open page.

It was a drawing of him.

He touched the portrait with one finger. It was him. Looking off into the distance, his hair curling, his freckles. Even the little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Was this how she saw him? Honestly, he hadn’t seen a mirror in so long, it was kind of strange to recognize himself.

“Oh…” she said softly as she came up behind him, dressed now. “Oh. I didn’t mean for you to see…” she said as she took the book and closed it. He looked up at her. Her face was bright red and she refused to look him in the eye. “We should just go get the seaweed before it starts getting dark,” she said. “It’s a little bit of a walk to the river.”

“You drew me,” he said. A statement, because he didn’t quite believe it, to be honest. 

“I just… it’s a hobby…” She clutched the book to her chest.

“To draw me?”

“To draw. I like to draw.”

“But why me?”

She looked at him then, as if she couldn’t help it. Her eyes were confused. She blinked at him and shook her head. She shrugged without words. 

“If you want,” he said, “I’ll sit and pose for you.” He didn’t mean the last part to come out as softly as it did. He clenched his fists to hold back the sudden fine tremble in his hands.

Her eyes went wide. “But why?” she whispered and took the smallest of steps towards him.

He blinked at her. He didn’t know. She hated him. She thought he hated her. Maybe he didn’t want that anymore. He shrugged without words.

Her smile was small at first, hardly even a smile, just a lightening of the world for a moment, but it made him smile too, the twist in his gut releasing just a little. And then they were standing there in her tent, smiling into each other’s eyes for Bellamy wasn’t sure how long.

A shout came from the camp outside of the tent, and then a loud, long crash. Bellamy grimaced and closed his eyes in anticipation for whatever disaster had just occurred. 

“Raincheck on that seaweed?” Clarke asked.

He opened his eyes and saw her serious face back on, eyebrows drawn low. 

“Raincheck,” he agreed, and the two of them turned on their heels simultaneously, exiting her tent in tandem to the sight of the framework of his guard tower in pieces on the ground, along with a couple of groaning kids.

“Dammit,” they both said at the same time, and took off running.


End file.
